


Traditionally Speaking

by ProdigalQueer



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Gen, Harry Hart Lives, Harry as Arthur, Kingsman Family, Kingsman Winter Fluff Fest 2015, Past Child Abuse, but enjoy, eggsy deserves the world, idk this is not realistic, just an unreasonable amount of teeth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigalQueer/pseuds/ProdigalQueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost Christmas, and something's up with Eggsy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditionally Speaking

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely Lauren (yourefullofsurprises). All remaining goofs are mine.
> 
> This is unmitigated teeth-rotting fluff, and I'm like...kind of sorry about it? But mostly not. It's also a submission for the Kingsman Winter Fluff Fest, using the following prompts: tradition, fresh start, family.
> 
> Hope your holidays are as fluffy as this fic.

Roxy's the first one to notice that Eggsy's been distracted. It started around the first of December, she thinks, once she starts paying attention. She knows it for a near certainty after she scrolls through their text message history, because Eggsy hasn't made a dirty joke with too many emoticons since November 29th, which is just _wrong._

Percival is actually the next to notice, oddly enough, both because he notices _Roxy_ noticing, and because he speaks to Eggsy four times without the younger agent purposely hamming up his accent to annoy him even once. It's very odd.

He mentions it to Roxy, and his niece only confirms what he himself has noticed. The two commit to keeping an eye on Galahad until they can figure out what's up.

–

Merlin is third in line, noticing midway through the second week of the month.

He does a routine check-in on Eggsy while he's on an intel mission in Belgium, watching through the glasses cam while Eggsy tails leisurely behind his mark as they meander through the heart of town. Suddenly, Eggsy's gaze swings away from the sharply-dressed arms dealer, and over to a glittering storefront Christmas display. The youngest agent quits moving, standing stone-still in front of the giant window, his view filled with a giant Christmas tree and scads of ornaments and toys strewn throughout the display.

“Get a move on, Galahad,” the tech wizard prods after a moment or two. “You can go Christmas shopping later.”

Eggsy jerks in response, his whole body startling, and Merlin knows he'd completely forgotten he was being recorded. “Er, right, Merlin, sorry 'bout that.”

Eggsy strolls away and catches up with the mark in no time, and performs the rest of his objectives without a hitch, but Merlin finds himself keeping watch over the rest of the mission, noticing how Eggsy's camera view seems to linger over seasonal decorations just a bit longer than is necessary. Once, he thinks he catches a sigh.

He makes a note on his tablet to keep an eye on it, and then switches over to watch Bors' mission feed for awhile.

–

Harry notices last, because he's too busy drowning in backlogged Arthur work to come up for air. Honestly, Harry doesn't even actually notice anything's off with Eggsy at all, he just notices everyone _else_ noticing.

It comes to his attention after a Round Table briefing. Percival, Lancelot, and Merlin are the only three there in person, and everyone else has signed off the comms. Harry looks up from his mountain of paperwork and notes about the budgeting of everyone's current missions, and sees the three of them huddled together at the other end of the table in deep discussion.

“Everything all right?” He calls mildly, and they look at him with surprise, as though they'd forgotten he was there.

“Well, maybe you can tell _us_ that, Sir,” replies Lancelot, eyeing Harry seriously .

“It's Eggsy,” Percival continues, and that takes Harry aback for a moment. Percival almost never calls another agent by anything but their code name-- mostly because he thinks it's funny that Percival is also his _real_ name. Forgoing that habit usually means he's grown very fond of an agent, as with his niece, Roxy, and his partner James before her.

“He seemed well enough at the meeting just now,” Harry replies, a question mark lilting up at the end of the sentence.

Percival waves that off. “Well yes, Harry, he's _fine_ , but he's just--” he makes an inarticulate gesture with his hand, floundering for a moment “--he's not been _annoying_ lately, is all.”

“ _Exactly!_ ” Roxy affirms, nodding sharply.

Bemused, Harry tries not to laugh. “Oh. How...inconvenient?”

Merlin breaks in then, giving Harry an unimpressed look. “You'll know what they mean, if you think for a moment yourself. And he's been a bit distracted lately.”

Harry finally feels a flickering of concern. “It is affecting his ability on missions?”

“No, _Arthur._ ” Merlin's tone is clearly chiding then, and Harry knows it's because they're all talking about Eggsy, not _Galahad._ “It's-- he's... he keeps looking at Christmas decorations.”

Harry blinks, nonplussed again. “Pardon?”

Merlin throws up his hands, at a loss, while Percival and Lancelot exchange glances.

“Just...keep an eye on him, would you, Ha-- Sir?” Roxy asks, and once Harry gives a faint, still-confused nod, they turn on their heels and exit, leaving him to his pondering and his paperwork.

–

The answer reveals itself on the nineteenth of December. Merlin's overseeing an undercover op being carried out by Tristan in Hong Kong, and keeping a half-eye on Eggsy's feed while he's in Manchester for the day.

Galahad has just finished convincing a rising cartel leader in the area to, well, _stop rising_ , and is in the restroom of a local restaurant, dabbing a spot of blood off his tie. Merlin is moments away from cutting the feed, when a voice comes from behind Eggsy, as someone exists the nearest bathroom stall.

“Oy, _Eggsy?_ ” Merlin puts both eyes to the screen now, as Eggsy wheels around and takes in a young man with dark skin and a sunburst smile.

“ _Jamal!_ ” Eggsy bursts out, and the two come together in a smattering of hard hugs and manly back-slapping.

“The fuck you doin' here, bruv?” Jamal asks, pulling back finally, getting a good look at Eggsy. No doubt he sees Eggsy's freshly split lip and the blooming bruise on his left temple. Merlin watches as his expression tilts to something wry and concerned. “Out doing work for that _tailor job_ again, eh?”

The camera is jostled as Eggsy raises his shoulders in an inelegant shrug. “Can you believe they ever let someone as clumsy as me out of the shop?” But his tone isn't sincere and Jamal rolls his eyes, knowingly.

“Someday you'll tell me, Unwin. Ry and I will wear you down eventually.”

Eggsy laughs and slings an arm across Jamal's shoulder, leading them out of the restroom to a table in the corner of the place. The waitress comes and takes their orders for two pints, and they settle in. Merlin could ( _should_ ) shut off the feed at this point, but Tristan has been sidetracked by a truly boring little art gallery, and this is much more interesting.

“So how's the training going?” Eggsy asks, leaning back in his chair. “Didn't know you were still up here, swear down. Thought you were finished up yesterday?”

Jamal nods. “The course finished up yesterday afternoon, but I'm hanging about 'til Monday when the scores come through.”

“You'll be head of the class, no problem,” Eggsy replies at once, his voice full of a pride Merlin's not entirely familiar with. “After the way you took care of things on V-Day, your mum told me they've been champing at the bit to get you out in the field full-time.”

Jamal ducks his head, embarrassed but pleased. The pints arrive, and the two settle into a brief silence.

Merlin takes the moment to pull up the files of Jamal Cain, and confirms he's been taking the accelerated paramedic courses that have been offered by the NHS to fill out the depleted profession in the wake of the V-Day massacre. There's a commendation in his file, as well, for lifesaving heroics on V-Day itself. The rest of his file seems almost identical to Eggsy's: a whip-smart lad with nothing to show for it, until Valentine's insanity gave him an opportunity to prove himself.

“I've always known you'd be great at this,” Eggsy says at length, a third of his pint already gone. The camera feed is trained on the rim of the pilsner glass, watching Eggsy's blunt fingernail click against it. “You've been patching all us estate chavs up for years, anyway.”

“You're just grateful I kept your wank hand workin', s'all. You should be, too, bruv. Took me an hour to set that wrist right,” Jamal answers with dismissive bravado, and Merlin catches him making an exaggerated jerk-off motion with his hand at the edge of the screen.

There is no record of a broken wrist in Eggsy's medical history. Merlin files that fact away to think about later.

There's another moment of silence, where Eggsy never looks up from the rim of his glass. Finally, Jamal speaks up again, voice somber. “Weren't none of us really chavs, Eggsy. Just a bunch of bastards with shit hands to play. V-Day...it was an awful thing, yeah? Not trying to downplay that at all, mate. But you're a 'tailor' now, and Ry's da is finally out of the picture and he's talking about going back to school next year, and look at me, on my way to being a fuckin' _paramedic_. It's just...”

Eggsy looks up and Merlin sees the relief and guilt warring in Jamal's expression. “Yeah,” Eggsy says gently, and the quartermaster hears the same emotions in the agent's voice.

“Anyway,” Jamal says after a moment, shaking the mood off his shoulders like a wet dog. “What are you doing for Christmas? Spoiling little Maisy Daisy, yeah?”

Eggsy rubs at his forehead, the glasses cam momentarily obstructed. “No clue. It's got me all twisted up, if I'm being honest. Christmas has always been a bit shit for my family-- it's when Dad died, and then two years later Dean walks into the picture. Daisy's never even had a Christmas tree. Want to do it up right for her. Don't want my mum to have to worry about anything, or be sad, or...” He trails off for a moment, seeming at a loss.

Jamal takes a long pull of his beer, finishing it off and wiping foam from his lips. “Well, those tailors seem to be paying you a mint, don't they? Go nuts, I say.” He looks across the table, through the glasses, like he's looking Merlin in the eye instead of Eggsy. “Oh hell, Eggsy,” He says, laughing in a commiserating sort of way. “You're afraid of fucking it up, aren't you? You can't fuck up _Christmas_ , mate! Not unless your name's Dean Baker, anyways.”

“Shove off,” Eggsy mutters, sounding young as he did way back in the beginning of his Kingsman training. “It's just...we ain't got no traditions I remember, all right? Old ornaments an' stuff-- Dean chucked all that out. Nothing's left from my gran or anything. It's a total blank slate, innit? Want to start it off right, with things that make 'em happy. Mum's still trying to get herself in order, and I don't think she's even thought about decorating or anything like that. But every time I start looking at stuff, I just get so _overwhelmed._ I can save the world, but I can't pick out a fuckin' Christmas tree.”

“You mean you can _tailor a great suit_ , don't you there, Unwin?” Jamal jibes, archly.

Eggsy makes an dismissive sound. “Yeah, that. 'Sides, I don't even know that I'll be getting Christmas off.”

Jamal scoffs. “Oh, come off it. Even 'tailors' get a day off, don't they?”

“Dunno,” he answers, gulping down the last of his own drink. “I don't ask much, do I? Don't wanna be ungrateful. I shouldn't even--” He bites off the rest of his words, but Merlin can imagine how he'd intended on finishing: _I shouldn't even be there at all._ The handler hadn't realized it was a doubt Eggsy still carried around so strongly, and the idea hits him uncomfortably in the solar plexus. “I'm lucky,” Eggsy finishes instead, lamely.

“Aren't we all,” Jamal says, knowingly, and then signals to the waitress for another round. Merlin hits a button, and lets the feed disconnect. Then he sends out messages to Harry and Roxy, hesitating only a second before summoning Percival as well. There's work to be done.

–

Eggsy continues to stall on his Christmas dilemma, leaving the house undecorated despite Daisy's growing excitement and his mum's helpless, uninspired nostalgia. Then, to make it worse, he ends up getting sent on a last-minute mission to Egypt on the 22nd.

It's a recon deal that ends up being a total bust, and Eggsy _tries_ not to be bitter about it when he checks in with Merlin to report late on Christmas Eve. The handler gives no indication he's noticed anything amiss, and gives Eggsy the all-clear to go home and the standard 24-hour post-mission time, but it's going to be hours before he's back to his house, and Eggsy is, frankly, a little pissy about it.

In truth, he doesn't understand why the mission itself couldn't have waited a few days, since the intel was vague and the evidence on the potential threat was thin. But Eggsy's been trying this new thing since V-Day, since he was lucky enough to be kept on as a Kingsman: he doesn't argue. He gets his orders from Arthur and goes where he's told, when he's told to.

He Skypes with his mum before he leaves, telling her his “international conference” has finally wrapped up, and tries not to notice the shadows in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to give her a holiday fit for a queen, but once again, his mum ends up coming second. It isn't fair.

To his surprise, Daisy is still awake, bouncing excitedly on his mum's lap, and she gibbers at him happily for ten minutes. About the only words Eggsy really catches are “Santa” and “Eggy,” but he chats back with her delightedly all the same, before checking in with Michelle to make sure she knows where his wrapped gifts for them are, and that she can bring them out for the festivities (such as they'll be) in the morning. His mum confirms it, giving him a real smile for the first time in a few weeks, and it makes Eggsy feel just a bit better.

There's eggnog laced heavily with rum for him on the plane ride home, which makes Eggsy laugh despite the sense of defeat permeating his skin. The cocktail napkin beneath the tumbler says _Hohoho. – M_ in Merlin's meticulous scrawl. At midnight on the dot, London time, Roxy sends him a long text full of capslock and emojis, wishing him a Very Happy Christmas. Percival emails him a video of his cats in Santa hats, which is so out-of-character that Eggsy nearly snorts a bit of nog out his nose. It's nice to be thought of, and it makes him feel warm and a little less miserable. He doesn't hear from Harry, but tries not to think about it too hard, as he settles in with his glass of Christmas Cheer for the seven-hour flight.

–

It's four in the morning by the time Eggsy makes it off the plane and through the deserted headquarters. There's a cab already waiting for him when he exits the building-- Harry's usual, if he's not mistaken. Perhaps that's his Happy Christmas from Arthur, then.

The driver takes him quickly to his own house without a word, and Eggsy ends up dozing a bit on the twenty minute drive. When the car stops, he stumbles out, eyes still thick with sleepiness. The cab has pulled out from the curb by the time Eggsy blinks his vision clear and finds himself in front of...well, he _assumes_ it's still his home?

Only, it doesn't _look_ like the place Eggsy left. Because Eggsy had definitely not strung lights along the gutters, across the picket fence, and around the windows. Eggsy had definitely _not_ lit candles in the window-fronts, or hung a giant wreath of pine (complete with oversized red bow) on the front door. Maybe...his mum?

In a daze, Eggsy tries to let himself in very quietly, an effort which fails immediately as the string of bells on the inside of the door jangles loudly in the early morning silence. Almost instantly, JB picks up barking ferociously from his spot in Daisy's room upstairs, and the upstairs hall light flicks on. “Eggsy?” His mum calls.

“Happy Christmas!” Eggsy calls back sheepishly. He sets about turning on the downstairs lights, only to have his jaw drop in a shocked gasp.

The entire house has been transformed. Garland adorns the banisters tastefully. The usual front hall runner has been replaced with a cheery one of red and green. In the living room, he can see an enormous Christmas tree squatting in the corner, full of multicolored lights and ornaments, with a giant star gleaming atop it. The bottom quarter of the tree is invisible, covered by stacks of beautifully wrapped presents. The fireplace is lit, flickering against the four stockings stuffed and dangling from the mantlepiece that read _Eggsy, Michelle, Daisy,_ and _JB._ It's completely unbelievable.

He waits at the bottom of the stairs as his mum gathers Daisy and JB from her room, and leads the troop downstairs. When she gets to the bottom stairs, Eggsy sees his mum freeze, and he blurts “Mum, did _you?--”_

Just as she gasps, “My God, _Eggsy!”_ Her eyes are huge as she takes in the transformation of their home.

“Eggy!” Daisy chirps happily from her mother's arms, reaching out her pudgy hands for her older brother. He reaches out and tugs her against his chest, planting wet, smacking kisses all over her faces as she squeals with laughter.

“Happy Christmas, Daisy-Doll!” He coos, swinging her around.

“Eggsy,” his mum whispers tremulously, tentatively descending the final step, her feet hesitating over the unfamiliar Christmas runner. “Love, is this...what--”

“Krimmas, Krimmas!” Daisy burbles over their mother's shock. She cranes her neck into the living room and catches sight of the tree surrounded by the mountain of gifts. “Santa, Santa! Eggy, _Santa_!”

“That's right, Dais, Santa came!” Eggsy sings, setting her down to let her toddle towards her Christmas paradise. His face is flushed now, his whole body shocked awake with warmth because, next to his stocking hanger on the mantlepiece, he has seen the simple white card with the familiar gold _K_ embossed on the front.

“Eggsy--” Michelle tries again, hands fluttering to pull her robe more tightly around her.

Eggsy laughs loudly, sweeping her up into a tight hug. “It's just like Daisy said. Santa came, Mum!”

And he leads her into the living room and sits her down in front of the fire as Daisy sets to pulling the bows off of every single present, and sticking them to herself. In the kitchen, he is unsurprised to find cinnamon rolls warming in the oven, and fresh coffee percolating in the pot. He pours two mugs and carries the plate of pastries into his family, collapsing into an armchair in dazed wonder as he watches a fairytale unfold around him.

Later, once his mum is distracted helping Daisy open up her obscene amount of toys and clothes (while dressed in a new cashmere sweater that mysteriously fits perfectly, of course), Eggsy moves over to the fireplace and plucks the card off the mantelpiece. He rubs his thumb over the gold embossing, and flips it open.

_Wishing you and your family a very Happy Christmas.  
May this be the start of new traditions to last you many years to come._

_Most Sincerely,  
_ _Arthur_

The impersonal 'Arthur' has been scratched out, with _HARRY_ written largely next to it in thin, spiky script he's startled to recognize as Percival's. Below that, Merlin, Percy, and Roxy have signed their names too, finished with a hastily scrawled _'We helped!'_ in Roxy's rounded letters.

Eggsy flushes once more, and wonders how he can ever begin to repay them, and how he can ever convince Merlin that eavesdropping is _rude._ He figures both goals are probably a lost cause, and slides the card into his breast pocket, next to his heart, before turning back to his family. There are gifts for him as well, at least a dozen aside from the ones from his mum. He finds himself guessing who picked out what, and the warm feeling stays curled in his stomach.

Eventually, he finds the last gift with his name on it, tucked clear back under the tree. It's a small thin square that fits in his palm, and when Eggsy unwraps it, the box inside is black velvet. Reverently, nervously, he slides open the lid to reveal what's inside: two cuff-links sit nestled in the interior satin. Each is a polished platinum circle with a 'K' sitting in the center, somehow shinier than the rest. Looking closely, Eggsy realizes the letters are made of tiny diamond chips inlaid precisely in the metal. They are absolutely _not_ standard issue.

There is also a small piece of paper lying folded next the the cufflinks. Eggsy fishes it out and carefully unfolds it, revealing the note, written in a careful, familiar hand:   
  
_So you might never again doubt your place with us. Yours Always-- Harry._

Folding the note into the same pocket with the card, Eggsy decides he _won't_ be yelling at Merlin for eavesdropping, and tries not to tear up. He closes the box gently and sets it on the hearth, before turning and collapsing on the ground next to Daisy, to help her cover JB with the leftover scraps of wrapping paper. His mum stands over them and takes pictures on her new phone. It feels like they've been doing this for years, Eggsy thinks, drunk on happiness as his sister and mother laugh around him. It feels comfortable, and easy, and _wonderful,_ which is, he supposes, exactly the way traditions ought to feel.


End file.
